


Down to Suck

by Laurasauras



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alley Sex, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), F/M, Hook-Up, Hypnotism, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25418623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: Dave and Rose are vampires who pick up Karkat one night and take him to an alley for a snack and sexy times. Non-con tag there because they don't tell him they're going to bite him and then hypnotise him into getting up and running.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde/Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde/Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 62





	Down to Suck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AllDaveKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllDaveKat/gifts).



> Happy (late) birthday Emi! I'm so glad we're friends!

It’s some kind of bullshit that Sollux and Terezi think that a club is the ideal place for an engagement party. It’s more bullshit that they spent like five minutes shout-talking with the rest of you in the booth and are now grinding on each other like teenagers on the dancefloor, leaving the rest of you to look after yourselves regardless of your comfort level in a club. You’ve decided that tonight you are a spectator, not a participant. You can dance about as well as a crab, and now that you think of it, with startlingly similar moves to one.

Strangely, the two 30-year-olds making out with hardly any attention to the heavy beat of EDM are not the most ridiculous dancers tonight. A couple feet from them, somehow picking a 3/4 rhythm to the _reeee-wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh-doof-doof_ song, two humans are waltzing. It’s modified, not taking them all over the dance floor, but you’ve watched way too many episodes of _Dancing with the Stars_ to not recognise it. And they’re good enough that you kind of wish they had the room to do it properly. They’re even in formal clothes, her purple dress matching the pocket square in his black suit, his eyes covered with dark sunglasses like he’s a celebrity.

You watch them as he spins her, pulls her back, as they dance in a perfect circle. She moves into an actual god damned lift with so much grace for a second you think she’s on wires somehow. You keep watching until Aradia judges that you’ve had enough drinks to be coaxed onto the dancefloor and tells you, ‘Karkat, you’re either going with your own feet or I’m carrying you there’. And then you watch them some more as you dance with absolutely no skill so close to them that her skirts brush against you every now and then. 

It’s 2 am when the 10 or so left in your party spill out onto the streets, half deaf from the club and in desperate need of fried food. You notice that the blonde couple leave at the same time because you’re approaching creepy stalker level of interest in them, arm in arm and talking at a much more sedate volume from a respectable difference behind your group. 

You feel like _they’re_ watching _you_ now, which is definitely a self-centred thought if you’ve ever had one. They’re probably watching your group as you’re all drunk and noisy and right in front of them, but there’s no reason that they’d be watching you specifically. Still, you feel their eyes on the back of your neck. It makes you shiver despite the mild night.

‘Karkat!’ Terezi says, leaning absolutely all of her weight on you and nearly stabbing you with her pointy horns. ‘I’m getting _married,’_ she says, in what would sound like a whisper if it weren’t so fucking loud.

‘I know,’ you say. ‘I can’t believe you’re allowed to do that.’

‘I _know,’_ she says. ‘We’re going to do it in a club.’

‘No,’ you say sternly.

The debate carries you all the way to the kebab truck, with you just slightly too drunk to be able to tell if she’s fucking with you.

The dancers go to the same truck and eat their kebabs turned away from you, so close that you really, really want to talk to them. They don’t seem that hungry, not that you can see them eating with them facing away, but their arms rarely move how they’d need to to bring the kebabs to their mouths.

After kebabs and goodbyes so loud that you get yelled at from an apartment nearby, you go your separate ways. You live close enough that you don’t join the ones going to the taxi rank, but instead walk on your own. When the dancers follow you, you feel uncertain of them for the first time. They’re not talking now, the only indication you have that they definitely are still behind you is the muted click of heels on sidewalk.

You make it three blocks before you decide to confront them and ask if they’re going to murder you, and if so could they just get it over with before you have to endure the hangover you’ve earned. You turn abruptly and find that you’re alone on the street. This makes you frown in confusion, because you could have sworn they were right there ... Uneasy, you turn back—and find yourself face to face with them.

They’re remarkably put-together for two people who were dancing all night. The woman’s make up hasn’t shifted, their hair is only slightly rumpled and it might even make them _more_ attractive. They have extraordinarily similar smirks, the man’s slightly obscured by his aviators and neither of them showing teeth.

‘What the fuck,’ you say stupidly.

‘Sup,’ the man says.

This strikes you as the most ridiculous opener to a mugging that you can’t bring yourself to be scared. 

‘Listen, _dickpimple,_ you can’t go around following someone and then introduce yourself like that,’ you say. You can’t quite think of why that might be. ‘It’s rude,’ you decide. 

‘We’d hate to be rude,’ the woman says. She holds out her hand to shake yours and says, ‘I’m Rose.’

You take her hand numbly and she deftly turns your attempt at a handshake into kissing you on the knuckles. You gape at her.

‘And I’m Dave,’ the man says, holding his hand out as well, looking very amused. You keep your hand to yourself this time. 

You hadn’t realised how similar they look at the club, but they have the same pale skin, the same surely-bleached hair, the same self-assured way of holding themselves. They move together even though they’re no longer dancing, like their _breathing_ is in sync.

‘Am I being mugged?’ you ask.

‘In a fashion,’ Rose says. ‘We’re stealing your heart.’

Dave groans and covers his face, slipping his hands under his shades to do so. You’re startled into laughing and suddenly the situation slips from scary-ridiculous to just ridiculous. Rose smiles smugly like that was her plan all along. 

‘Come home with us,’ she says. ‘You are even more beautiful in the moonlight and our rotten, still hearts are almost stirred to movement by your presence.’

‘Now that’s a better line,’ Dave says.

You have to agree. You’re not sure how to deal with being picked up on the street by two strangers (two!) who make your friends look normal, but you feel like the only obvious answer is to go along with it. So maybe you get murdered a little bit. Hopefully you get laid first.

‘What name are we going to be screaming, hot stuff?’ Dave asks.

You want to point out that you haven’t said yes yet, but ... ‘Karkat.’

Dave takes your hand and Rose your other arm and they lead you down the streets to their place, talking without break so that even if you were feeling less stunned you would struggle to get a word in. 

‘We met way back, I found her conning people out of money telling them their fortunes,’ Dave says.

‘I saw you coming,’ Rose counters, her tone indicating that she’s had this argument countless times.

‘Yeah, you were just waiting for a dude handsome enough and gullible enough to take you in, no “sight” involved in that.’

‘And he was so impartial and unaffected by my powers that he left me to my games and we never saw each other again,’ Rose says dreamily. ‘Oh wait, that can’t be what happened, because we’re both here and you stay affixed to my side like you think I’m liable to scatter into a bafflement of bats at any moment.’

‘That’s definitely not the collective noun for bats,’ you say.

‘It should be,’ Rose says. 

‘She does what she wants with words,’ Dave says. ‘And basically everything else. It’s basically impossible to go counter to her. Says she’s keyed into the universe but _that’s_ bullshit.’

‘Dave can’t refuse me anything,’ Rose smiles serenely.

She unlocks the door to a brick apartment building and holds it open. You hesitate on the threshold, unsure of whether you’re really going along with this. There’s a difference between walking down the street with attractive strangers and following them into an apartment.

‘Would you prefer the alleyway?’ Rose asks curiously.

Dave’s eyebrows go up and he tilts his head to the side, like he hadn’t considered that angle but isn’t opposed to it. The light of the building catches on scattered sequins on Rose’s skirts and the reflective surface of Dave’s shades. You see for the first time that Rose’s eyes aren’t blue, they’re purple. That must have been handy working as a fortune teller. You’re still hesitating, and it’s only slightly because you’re distracted by their looks.

‘You’re not going to hook up with a stranger in an alley,’ you say.

‘Don’t _dare_ her,’ Dave says, smirking. ‘There’s one, what, next to the coffee shop?’

‘We’re right at your apartment,’ you point out. But you’re still not going in. What is wrong with you? They’re in formalwear! ‘Public decency.’

‘We won’t be caught,’ Rose says with confidence. ‘We can put a hand over your mouth.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ you say. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘On the one hand,’ Dave says, holding a hand palm up illustratively, ‘there’s a really comfy bed up there, and, you know, walls.’ He lifts his other hand and moves them both like they’re scales. ‘On the other, kinky, dirty, alley sex. And you know, Rose is into it but it feels like something way beneath her and that makes it crazy not allowed in my brain, so ...’

You swallow, looking at them in their unfair perfection. Maybe that’s why you’re hesitating so much, because if they get the home advantage on top of everything else you’ll just be swept away, it’s pinging danger signals that have your hands forming loose claw shapes in preparation for _something_ ... And they’d still have you absolutely cornered in the alley, but it’s different somehow.

Rose steps back outside and closes the door.

‘You really want me enough to do this?’ you ask.

Rose takes your hand and leads you on instead of answering. Dave follows just behind you with his hands in his pockets, reactivating that itchy feeling of pursuit that _shouldn’t be hot._ Rose pulls you into an alley, taking you deep enough that the streetlight doesn’t reach and your vision becomes bleached of colour. Humans like them mustn’t be able to see anything but vague shadows. Then she stops, turns, and presses her hands to your chest to gently push your backwards until you’re against Dave. You let her.

‘Together?’ Dave asks. 

Rose nods. Dave’s hand runs up your arm as Rose traces the collar of your shirt. She steps slightly closer, so you can feel the barely-there weight of her skirt against your jeans but not her quite her body. Her right hand rests on your heart as you wait for her to kiss you, breathing thin, shallow breaths. Her fingers trace along your jawline and your eyes drop to her lips. They’re slightly parted and you can just make out the shape of her fangs through them.

Wait, she’s not a troll. She shouldn’t have fangs.

Suddenly Rose’s palm is pressed to your lips and Dave’s fingers are in your hair, keeping you from moving even an inch. You have time to make a tiny _”Mmph!”_ noise and then she’s bending quickly to press her lips, no, her _fangs_ to your neck, in exact unison to Dave from the other side.

It _burns,_ the pressure is _enormous_ and then it relents slightly as they pull their fangs from you without moving their lips and you can _feel_ your blood escaping into them, the roll of their tongues as they suck and swallow. You hear your muffled attempt at screaming before you realise it’s you making the noise, and when you manage to make yourself stop you feel the tingling of your lips against her palm stop. 

You get used to the pain, or it stops hurting as much, and you start to think about escaping. You start to think about the amount of blood your body usually holds and how much it could stand to let go of. And then it doesn’t feel bad at all. Just intense.

You become aware of Dave’s hand on your hip, his fingers cool underneath the hem of your shirt. Of the feminine smell of Rose’s perfume, something sweet and utterly unnatural that you breath in with every panicky inhale. Less panicky now, because her leg is between yours and you can feel the pressure of her thigh against your sheath. And, _fuck,_ the hardness of Dave’s erection against your ass.

Rose withdraws first, licking your wound thoroughly. You feel blood trickle from it before she catches it with her tongue, and two licks later it no longer wants to bleed. She traces her lips with her pointer finger as she moves back, and looks you in the eye before she takes her hand from your mouth. You suck in a breath and release it shakily. Dave’s hand tightens in your hair and he angles you slightly to the side as he keeps sucking. His hair tickles against your neck.

‘I’ve already called you beautiful,’ Rose murmurs, ‘but it really is the word.’ She strokes your face lightly, reverently. ‘I have a weakness for men with red eyes.’

Dave stops sucking and mimics the way Rose licked your throat to healing. His fingers relax in your hair and you feel suddenly weak. He keeps you standing as you sag in his arms. 

‘So,’ Dave says. ‘We still on for dirty, alley sex?’

You laugh weakly. You’re strangely turned on, like _really_ turned on, but you can barely stand. The mental image of Dave pushing you against the wall while you’re horny and relaxed is actually hot as hell, but you’re really not up for participating. 

Rose takes a hold of your belt and your eyes drop to her hands before you look up at her face again. She holds your gaze with eyes that look light grey in the blackness of the night.

‘You’re getting your strength back,’ she says, and you find that’s true. You stop leaning so heavily on Dave and shiver when he nibbles your ear. 

‘You need to listen to my voice, my commands,’ she says, and that’s true too. You want her approval desperately. ‘You need to watch me and do as I say, need it like you need to breathe.

‘Your arousal sits distracting and hot in your belly, it has a grip on your hindbrain that you can’t shake off.’

She finishes undoing your jeans and walks backwards until she’s against the alley wall. You watch her attentively, even as Dave’s cool hands slip inside your underwear and his fingers trace teasingly over your swollen sheath. The sensitive tip of your bulge slips free and he closes his thumb and forefinger over it. You make a little helpless noise and almost collapse back into his arms again. 

‘You want to fuck me,’ she whispers, as if it’s a secret how much you want that. Dave catches your bulge as it slides the rest of the way free, gliding over it and ramping up your desire. He walks you forward a few steps and then stops you just out of reach of Rose.

‘Your feet are fixed in place,’ she says, and you can’t move anymore, can’t close that distance. ‘But when they’re free, you’re going to pick me up, press me to this wall, and fuck me until I come.’

You groan helplessly, body straining towards her and unable to move. 

‘You’re not going to come,’ she says, smiling wickedly. ‘You’re only going to reach orgasm when I give you permission to. There’s two of us, after all.’

‘Hell yes,’ Dave says. ‘Was concerned there for a sec, not that watching you get railed by a hot troll in an alley isn’t suddenly my number one fantasy, but you know, there’s such a thing as fairness and I feel like my giving you immortality should occasionally be rewarded in some way.’

‘My presence is your reward,’ Rose says. 

‘You’re the light of my life, Lalonde, I still appreciate the ol’ baloney pony getting to go to the fun zone once in a while.’

‘You’re a doucheshit,’ you say in wonder. What is _happening._ ‘A nookscratching shameshitting doucheshit.’

‘I’ll scratch your nook,’ he says in porn-star drawl. ‘I mean, not literally, but ...’

His fingers reach down past your bulge to trace along your nook. You groan and move your hips impatiently. Rose looks amused. She lifts her skirt and shimmies out of her underwear, picks them up and throws them at you. You catch them and Dave immediately plucks them out of your hands and stows them in a suit pocket. 

‘Dave, unhand him.’

‘Can’t hypnotise me, babe.’

‘Dave, unhand him, _please.’_

Dave unhands you and steps away to lean against the wall next to Rose. He holds his slurry wet hand palm up and starts to fiddle with his belt. 

‘Karkat,’ Rose says, and your eyes are on her again immediately. ‘Your feet are free to move.’

You almost fall forward you move so fast. Your hands reach her waist and you lift her, push her against the wall like she said. Her legs wrap around your hips and she pulls her skirt up. Dave pushes off the wall to help you with your pants and then falls back with a fanged grin as your bulge reaches for her.

She hums with satisfaction as you bury yourself deep into her. _Fuck,_ she feels amazing. Her legs tighten around you and she leans back against the wall. Her hands are cold on your shoulders but her pussy is warm and wet and squeezes around you as your bulge squirms inside her. You watch as her cheeks grow pink, as she bites her lip over a moan, one fang pressed to her soft skin. You hold her hips tight as you grind against her. You know you need to be _quiet._ It feels impossible.

Dave takes you by the chin and forces you to meet his eyes. He shakes his head slightly to jostle his shades down his nose and looks at you directly. They’re darker than hers, but in the dark you couldn’t begin to guess what colour they are. Your eyes flick down to take in that his hand is in his pants before you refocus on his face.

‘Fuck her properly, make her feel it, drive her into the wall,’ he says urgently.

He releases you and you look back at her, heart skipping with anticipation. Her mouth falls open as you snap your hips with more force. You reach up and shove your hand into her hair, holding with just a bit of a pull as you thrust into her. The bricks are rough on your knuckles but you couldn’t give a shit, all you care about it the increasing rate of you entering her, in and then out and your bulge twisting and rolling the whole time. 

_’Fuck,’_ she whispers, holding you tighter. 

One of her calves trembles against your back. You nuzzle into her cleavage and suck, bite, kiss gently to make up for the harshness of your bite. Her breath is coming heavy and yours is matching it, your bulge feels so full and your thighs and abs are burning with exertion as you fuck her as hard as you can. 

She reaches back over her head and presses a hand to the wall and arches her back, changing the angle just a bit and from the way she moans another swear it’s for the better. Your bulge drives deeper, you make a pitiful chirr and the sensation just lingers, you can’t find a release and it’s making you desperate and messy.

‘Ah—god, oh fuck!’ 

She’s threatening too loud, your stomach flips with nervous excitement and you can’t keep in your own moan as you feel her come with nails digging into your shoulder and pussy tensing around you. You can’t stop, you can’t find your climax and you _need_ it.

Until she meets your eyes again and says, ‘Slowly, put me down.’

You’re gentle as you do what she says, but your bulge is throbbing with need and you have to lean into her shoulder as you try and collect yourself. Dave taps you on the shoulder.

‘C’mere, baby boo,’ he says, and you leave Rose and her breathless laugh for him.

You’re half expecting to be the one picked up this time, but he just pulls you to him until your hips are flush and guides your bulge into his pants to wrap around his cock. You groan with relief at the stimulation and grip him by the shoulders. 

_’Yess,’_ he hisses. ‘Don’t worry, honey cakes, I’m not gonna drag this out. Already got my dinner and a show, fucking thrilled to get a squeezearoni to finish the ... _Jesus_ that feels good.’

He thrusts shallowly into the constriction of your bulge winding around him, sliding back and forth as if he can reciprocate and tangle with you. It doesn’t feel as natural as doing it with a troll but there’s something in the firmness that makes your legs feel weak. He wraps an arm around you as if he can sense that and you look up the couple inches to try and see through his shades. 

He kisses you and you moan into his mouth, grateful to have something to muffle what has been building in you for way too long. His arm tightens around you and turns you slightly so he can crowd you into the wall. 

You break the kiss to gasp as his hardness presses more urgently against the base of your bulge, stimulating your sheath, feeling like _almost_ too much and making you want more. He meets your eyes as he keeps grinding into you, breathing hard through his nose with a tightly closed jawline. 

Your bulge is on the edge again, squeezing and releasing around him like you’re going to spill slurry all over his stupid suit but you _can’t,_ it’s so sensitive you almost hurt and he’s overwhelming you as he reaches up your shirt to trace your grubscars, as he uses the couple inches he has on you to lean over you in the best kind of closeness. 

His mouth falls open when he comes, letting free a broken moan. He shudders, hips stuttering to stillness.

‘You may come,’ Rose whispers in your ear.

You cry out openly for a split second before Dave’s hand is on your mouth smothering it. Slurry pours from your bulge and nook and splashes onto the pavement below. You feel it get on your shoes, some flicking up to your jeans, and know it’s undoubtedly making a mess of Dave and Rose as well. It feels like it lasts forever and you ache with relief when it slows to a drip and then stops. 

‘Can you imagine a wet dream with one of those?’ Dave asks breathlessly. ‘You’d drown.’

‘You have the most romantic pillow talk,’ Rose says. ‘You conjure poetry from banal words and articulate concepts that no one else would.’

You groan against Dave’s hand and he remembers to take it from your mouth, smiling sheepishly at his forgetting. 

‘Would you like to come upstairs for a shower?’ Rose asks.

‘That seems to defeat the purpose of alley sex,’ you say.

‘Alley sex is its own reward,’ Dave says. ‘It’s up to you though. Promise we won’t bite.’

‘Again,’ Rose adds.

You look down at your feet where you can vaguely see the shape of a puddle and shrug. They’ve already had their chance at killing you and they didn’t, it feels dumb to keep to the “safety” of outside now. And you could really use a shower.

‘How are you rainbow drinkers?’ you ask as you stand awkwardly in the elevator, leaving red footprints on the lino. ‘Rainbow drinkers aren’t even _real.’_

‘Yes they are. And trolls and humans have several infections that can pass between our species,’ Rose says.

‘Magic, bro,’ Dave says. 

They let you have the first shower and once you’re done and dressed in borrowed clothes, you catch them in the kitchen discussing the literary merits of _The Garfield Movie._ Rose takes the next shower and leaves you and Dave alone. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t have any posture to speak of when he’s not dancing, maybe it’s that his shirt is soft on your skin and smells good, maybe it’s that he didn’t take quite the same pleasure in commanding you as Rose, but you feel a bit more comfortable with him.

‘So ...’ he says.

‘How are you feeling awkward?’ you ask. ‘Don’t you do this all the time?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he says. ‘I’m not even feeling awkward actually, I’m as cool as Ben & Jerry’s. As cool as a chick with a gallon of B & J’s (lol) in the middle of winter because her fave show got cancelled and hell, it works in the movies so maybe it’ll work in real life, but her heating’s out and it’s fucking December and she’s not even that sad, she just thought she’d give it a try and holy shit, who can even eat a whole gallon of ice cream, she should have used a bowl or maybe just gotten drunk, _that’s_ how cool I am.’

 _’Are_ you drunk?’ you ask incredulously.

Dave laughs. Then stops.

‘Wait, were you drunk?’ You nod. ‘Oh, yeah, probably. Ha. Whoops.’

‘Hey, fartknuckle, you followed me from a club, what did you expect?’

He laughs again and then looks horrified with himself. He leans over the bench towards you and smiles in a way that’s frustratingly cute. You just had sex with him in an alley, and, more importantly, he just sucked blood from your veins in an alley. He’s not _cute._ Except he really is, with his floppy hair and the freckles you can see in the light of his kitchen.

‘Hey, studmuffin. How am I supposed to shamelessly flirt with you in the middle of the night when I don’t have your number?’

‘You’re doing a pretty good job of it now,’ you say, looking up at the ceiling. _This isn’t cute,_ you tell yourself again.

‘If you want to meet up in person every night so I don’t have to show off my texting skills then I’m okay with that too.’

You look down at him so you can give him an expression of serious judgement. He grins shamelessly at you. His fangs suit him, should make him look dangerous, but they don’t. Maybe it’s because you’re used to Feferi’s mouthful of knives. 

‘I just think you’re cute,’ he says. ‘Kinda want to take you to a movie or something. Get to know more about you than just the fact that you can’t dance and you swear well.’

Ah, fuck it. You pull your phone out, find the new contact page and pass it to him. He grins again and enters his number, then a second later a jingle sounds from his pocket. 

‘I didn’t even set my picture to one of my dick,’ he says, like that’s an achievement you should both be proud of him for. The fact that you’re glad to be here even after that is just added proof that you have the _worst_ taste.


End file.
